


The First Meeting

by solluna



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Gen, High School, young Asami, young Kirishima
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solluna/pseuds/solluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirishima Kei considered himself to be an excellent judge of character... that is, until he met Asami Ryuichi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ptw30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/gifts).



> Massive thanks to ptw30 for the encouragement and support!!

Kirishima Kei considered himself to be an excellent judge of character. He prided himself on his ability to take one look at a person and be able to accurately guess all he’d ever need to know about them: their upbringing, their personality, whether they were trustworthy or not, and even what they were thinking at the time. It’s not that he had a sixth sense or ESP or any such nonsense; he was just very smart and extremely observant. Yet he had been quietly and obsessively observing the boy seated beside him for hours now, and felt frustratingly, _maddeningly_ no closer to understanding him at all.

Kirishima had immediately noticed the other boy sitting a few rows ahead of him in the entrance ceremony for the way that he seemed to stand apart from the crowd of other students. For although Ishin Academy was an extremely prestigious private school populated by only the best of the best – the sons of politicians, doctors, business tycoons, etc. – Kirishima found that despite their expensive uniforms, most of the students still looked like rowdy teenaged boys. 

But not this boy.

Kirishima wasn’t particularly interested in guys (or girls, for that matter) but even he had to admit that this boy was incredibly good looking. His inky hair seemed shades darker than the dull black of the students around him, and although it was clear he was still growing into his looks, he already had the cheekbones and jawline of classic Greek mythology. His uniform fit him as though the design had been made for _him_ , and all the other students were simply left to suck it up and deal with wearing the same thing. But it was his eyes that made shivers curl up Kirishima’s spine when the boy glanced back in his direction in the middle of the ceremony. They were molten gold, piercing and sharp… and completely unreadable.

Truly, it was this that caught Kirishima’s attention. Despite the slight hint of a smirk that played about the other boy’s lips, his expression overall was unaffected, and Kirishima hadn’t the slightest idea what he was thinking. Was this boy amused by the entrance ceremony? Bored? Keenly interested? It frustrated him to the ends of the Earth that he couldn’t tell. He realized he was staring, trying to work it out, when the boy’s eyes shifted to land directly on Kirishima. Suddenly it became an intense staring contest as the boy refused to look away, and Kirishima tried unsuccessfully to glean more information from him. Finally, unable to stand that unrelenting and unrevealing gaze any longer, Kirishima broke and looked away in irritation.

And things only went downhill from there.

At first, Kirishima wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or elated to find that the other boy was in his class. On the one hand, it gave him more of a chance to observe him, to see if he could find out what lay beneath that mask of his. But on the other, it meant spending the year with a boy that Kirishima found he was rapidly starting to dislike.

It became abundantly clear almost immediately that this was a boy who was used to getting his own way. When their teacher began directing them to their assigned seats, the boy calmly raised his hand and spoke without even waiting for acknowledgment.

“Sensei, don’t you think it would be better if we were able to choose our own seats? That way we would be both more invested and more accountable for paying attention to your lessons.”

That wasn’t true at all, Kirishima thought in annoyance. Their teacher, however, was already nodding in surprising agreement with the boy, and the class was shuffling itself around trying to get the good seats. The next thing Kirishima knew he was sitting in the middle of the classroom, directly next to the golden eyed boy. When their teacher asked for volunteers for the class rep position, the boy tilted his head slightly and said “Kirishima-kun will do it.” Kirishima spluttered his refusal, but no one listened to him, and he found himself glaring daggers at the smugly impassive face beside him. Kirishima now felt that the boy’s black hair was appropriately coloured to match his soul.

The rest of the day proceeded in exactly the same way: the golden-eyed boy would make subtle orders disguised as suggestions, and the teacher would follow them without question. The other students had begun whispering appreciatively about this kid, and all Kirishima could think was about his uncontrollably growing desire to punch the boy in the face to make him shut up.

Finally, _finally_ , the bell sounded the end of the day, and Kirishima began methodically packing up his things, never lifting his eyes from his desk. At this point, he didn’t even want to _look_ at his classmate, regardless of whether or not the boy’s unreadable face intrigued him. But of course, it couldn’t be that easy for him.

“Hello,” the now all-too-familiar voice spoke from directly above him. Slowly, reluctantly, Kirishima looked up to glare into golden eyes. “I’m sorry, I hope you didn’t mind me suggesting you for the class rep, it’s just that you seem so fitting for the job.”

“How would _you_ know _that_?” Just because he had glasses and seemed bookish didn’t mean that he wanted extra work piled on top of him.

“Oh, I’m certain that you’ll be more than capable, Kirishima-kun.” That wasn’t what he’d meant by his question, and Kirishima was certain that the boy knew it. “I’m Asami Ryuichi, by the way.” Asami stuck out his hand, and though Kirishima was disinclined to want to shake it, he was nothing if not polite.

“Kirishima Kei.”

“Oh, I know.” Asami smiled in a way that Kirishima suspected would make rich old grandmothers sign over their life’s fortune to him.

“Do you?” he frowned, discomfited by Asami’s smile and how close he was standing and how stupidly-perfect the Windsor knot on his tie looked.

“I know _all_ about you, Kirishima,” Asami leaned comfortably against his desk, and Kirishima didn’t fail to note how he’d dropped the honorific and addressed him so informally. “You graduated at the top not only your class but also your entire school, and placed within the top five of the country. Your father is a doctor, your mother a lawyer, and though they could easily pay your tuition here you’ve been given a full scholarship because Ishin wanted you so badly. You’re an internationally-ranked chess player, and you speak four languages.” Asami’s smiled had curled into a smirk, and he regarded Kirishima calmly, clearly waiting for a reply. Kirishima struggled to give him one.

“If you know so much, then what do you want?”

“Nothing,” Asami shrugged. “At least, not yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I want to see if what I’ve heard is true.” Asami grinned and leaned closer, so that his golden eyes were inches away from Kirishima’s face. When he spoke again, Kirishima couldn’t help but think that it was the voice of a boy that was used to having power, and knew how to obtain more of it. Despite his dislike for Asami, it made him somehow want to prove himself to him.

“I want to see what you’re capable of.”

And with that he turned and walked away, leaving Kirishima flustered and irritated and absolutely, 100% certain that Asami Ryuichi was someone that he would never, ever get along with.

 


	2. The Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your awesome comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter too! :D

“I want to see what you’re capable of.”

Asami’s words had been a challenge; a test, and for the first time in his life, Kirishima was pretty sure he was failing. It was exactly as the other boy had said: Kirishima was a top student, unmatched in his previous school. He’d never met a challenge he couldn’t unravel, a problem he could not solve. Ishin Academy had practically begged him to attend, promising a full scholarship that he didn’t really need. And the classes here, while stimulating, were not a great deal more difficult than what he was used to. Yet no matter how smart he was or how hard he worked, Asami beat him at everything.

Kirishima spoke four languages fluently, and his English was as good as his Japanese. When he spoke, there was no trace of an accent in his voice, and reading, vocabulary and grammar came easily to him. This was impressive, he knew; everyone told him so, especially his teachers. He had been certain that this would impress the golden-eyed boy who had demanded to see what Kirishima was made of. He _wanted_ to impress Asami, not because he liked the boy, but to show him up and in doing so – hopefully – _shut_ him up. In their first English class, however, Asami had not only corrected Kirishima on his pronunciation (a foolish mistake caused by his own distraction, Kirishima chided himself) but also demonstrated his ability to adopt several different accents as well, changing effortlessly from an American accent to a British one, and even playfully speaking in what he claimed was a Scottish dialect.

Kirishima hated him.

Their other subjects were no different. In Math Asami always beat him by a few marks, and on the few tests where Kirishima had received a perfect grade, Asami had somehow managed to scam bonus points from their teacher. And when Kirishima had asked Honda-sensei what the extra marks had been for, the man had been suspiciously vague about his answer.

In Physical Education, Asami dominated everyone, revealing a perfectly toned body that Kirishima couldn’t understand. He himself was skinny like a bean-pole, for though he was fit and healthy for his age he spent all his time studying and had no time to pursue what he considered to be unnecessary athletics. If Asami spent as much time on school work as Kirishima did to get good grades, then he shouldn’t have been capable of beating their classmate, Mori-san (who was a kendo champion _and_ on the track team) at everything they did in class. Kirishima just couldn’t make sense of it.

Of course, what was worst of all was Asami’s insufferable personality. Everything he did, he did not only with extreme competence and ease, but also with that unreadable mask on his face. Even when he did show some semblance of human emotion, which more often than not was inexplicably directed at Kirishima himself, the facial features just did not seem to match up with whatever lurked behind those golden irises.

“May I eat with you?”

Startled from his grumbling thoughts, Kirishima lifted his head from his desk and glared at the easy smile on Asami’s face. They were in their homeroom, having just finished a lesson and were now sitting down to lunch. Kirishima already had his lunch box on his desk, but Asami hadn’t moved an inch since the bell had rung.

“You sit right next to me,” Kirishima noted coolly, nodding to Asami’s desk less than two feet from his own.

“I do,” Asami agreed.

“Then there is no real need to ask, is there?” Kirishima pushed his glasses up his nose and sniffed. What he said was true, but it was also true that Asami rarely ate lunch at his desk. He was often surrounded by other boys, running errands for teachers or, with increasing regularity, out for lunch with any number of girls from the neighbouring school, who shrieked and fawned over Asami as though he were some stereotypical manga-prince character. They were almost annoying as Asami himself, and Kirishima didn’t know how Asami could stand to spend so much of his time with them.

“You’re right, but I thought it would be polite to inquire anyway.” The smile on Asami’s lips had curled into amusement, a smirk, but the expression in his eyes was heavier. Kirishima guessed that Asami was calculating something, but he didn’t know what. His answers, maybe? His willingness to let Asami eat with him? Or maybe something completely different, unrelated entirely. It seemed he would never understand this boy.

“That was a hard test, wasn't it?” Asami, apparently having decided to eat with him anyway, leaned back in his chair so that the front legs came up off the ground, and stretched his arms up above his head. They had just received their grades for their latest Politics-Economics test and, as usual, Asami had beat Kirishima’s grade despite the fact that Kirishima had never once seen Asami studying for the subject.

“Not for you, it seems,” Kirishima muttered. The legs of the chair came back down with a hard noise as Asami leaned forward again.

“What’s wrong, Kirishima?” Asami grinned, and the expression brought with it the mental image of a shark that Kirishima had once seen on a class trip to an aquarium, right before it was fed. “A little friendly competition is healthy, you know. It’s a fact of business.” Asami looked smug, and it was the first time since Kirishima had met him that the expression seemed to go all the way through him.

“I know that,” Kirishima snapped, annoyed that the first time he’d been able to successfully read Asami was because the other boy had been mocking him. Asami shrugged.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to try harder,” he said, and leaned back again in his chair, making no motion to move or pull out a lunch, despite his request to eat with Kirishima. Kirishima wished he would just go away.

But Asami remained sitting beside him, regardless of what Kirishima wanted, and from that day on he spent every single lunch at his desk, minus a few minutes each day when he disappeared, apparently to smoke on the roof if rumors were to be believed. Kirishima found it incredible how so many of his peers still had blinders on for this boy, despite this obvious delinquent behaviour. And yet, everyone loved Asami, worshipped him it seemed. Kirishima was careful to keep his own opinion to himself; he had seen what had happened to the one boy who had voiced a bad view of Asami Ryuichi. The rest of the class had torn him apart, both verbally and physically, until the unfortunate student had apparently transferred schools.

Asami almost never brought a lunch with him to school, Kirishima had noticed, and yet he never wanted for something to eat. Even though he wasn’t spending the lunch period with them any longer, it seemed Asami’s fangirls had been taking turns making him homemade bentos for lunch each day. Today’s version included pink food colouring and hearts, and when Kirishima saw it, he couldn’t help but snicker. Asami caught the noise, and Kirishima half expected to be glared at, but instead he watched the golden eyes roll.

“They’re so annoying,” he muttered, and it was difficult to tell if Asami was talking to himself or to Kirishima until he flicked some pink-coloured rice at the spectacled boy and added, “This one thinks she’s my girlfriend, I swear.”

“Why do you put up with them if you don’t enjoy their company?” Kirishima deftly picked the pink rice off of his uniform collar.

“Oh, I enjoy their _company_.” Asami smirked, and there was nothing about him in that moment that was not predatory. Even Kirishima felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end a little. 

“And what about your fan _boys_?” Kirishima nodded to the group gathered not far from their desks, seemingly absorbed in their own conversation. Kirishima knew better. All Asami had to do was open his mouth and they would jump to get him whatever they thought he needed. “Why do you put up with _them_?”

Asami leaned close and bared his teeth in a dark smile. His voice was low and persuasive, like someone imparting a secret of utmost importance to a friend, but with just the slightest edge to it. “Who is to say that I don’t enjoy some of their company too?”

Kirishima blinked, less surprised by the insinuation that Asami might like boys than by the fact that the other boy had chosen to share this fact with him. Carefully, he flicked his eyes over to their classmates again, wondering belatedly which of them Asami could possibly find stimulating enough to be interested in. Clearly, his reaction had pleased Asami in some unknown way, because he leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Feeling awkward, Kirishima raised his drink to his mouth.

“I enjoy your company too, you know,” Asami said amiably, and Kirishima nearly spit out his drink. Asami threw back his dark head and laughed, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. “I don’t mean in _that_ way.” He was still snickering slightly. “But you’re far more interesting than they are. And smarter, too. Besides, they are fake, pretending to worship me because my father practically owns this school. You’re not like them, though, are you?” Kirishima didn’t really know what to say to that. He knew he wasn’t, but it was not something he particularly chose to dwell on.

Asami observed his silence, then tipped his head to the side and regarded Kirishima carefully. “You don’t like me, do you?”

Kirishima stiffened. “What makes you think that?”

Asami laughed softly. “It’s written all over your face. I annoy you. But that’s alright, for now. I’m okay with annoying you because it challenges you to work harder. Like I said, competition is a good thing, Kirishima-kun. We can be rivals for now, if that’s what you’d like.” The shark smile was back, and Asami’s golden eyes were gleaming with something alluring, something akin to the intoxicating feeling Kirishima got from beating the rest of his peers on a test, or winning a chess match. “But you and I, Kirishima? We’re different from them,” Asami jerked his head over to the others in their classroom, talking and laughing about girls and video games.

“I don’t think I’m like _you_.”

“You are,” Asami assured him, “Even if you don’t know it yet. But I can see the ambition in you, Kirishima Kei. You’re greedy. You want more than this, more than your parents’ life. We are exactly the same. And one day you’ll realize that, and then you’ll understand that we are suited to be more than just rivals to each other.”

Asami sounded crazy. It was ridiculous for a sixteen year old boy to be talking like this. Yet Kirishima couldn’t help but feel intrigued, enticed by the vision Asami was offering.

“What would you have us be, then?”

Asami shrugged and stood up, moving out from behind his desk and pulling a lighter out of his pocket. He flicked the lighter and watched the flame for a minute before releasing it and looking over at Kirishima with an arched eyebrow and a smirk. “That’s for you to decide.”

 


	3. The Match

Kirishima had no idea what he was doing here. He had followed Asami without even thinking, and now he stood with his fingers hooked around the chain-link fence that bordered the roof, staring out at the school yard far below. Asami was reclining in the shade behind him, his head tipped back against the wall, casually working his way through his second cigarette in less than thirty minutes. They hadn’t spoken a single word since coming up here. Kirishima sighed distastefully as he watched Asami blow out a perfect set of smoke rings with his eyes closed.

Maybe it would be best for him to just go back to the classroom.

The minute the thought crossed his mind, the bell to signal the end of the lunch period rang. Through the links of the fence Kirishima could see his fellow students beginning the dash to get back to class and he lingered for a moment, watching them run. It wasn’t a great desire for education that made them scurry to class like bugs caught in the sun. Most were dull herd creatures without a drop of intuition or ambition in them. It was not drive that pushed them, it was cowardice: the fear of getting caught, being punished. Asami was right, Kirishima wasn’t like them. But he sighed with disgust as he turned to make his way back downstairs to join them.

“Leaving?”

Kirishima turned to see Asami’s eyes open and honed in on him where he stood at the door to the stairwell. Slowly, deliberately, Asami raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, his face unreadable.

“Well, I _am_ the class rep, thanks to _someone_ ” Kirishima shot back with narrowed eyes. Asami’s lips twitched just slightly, and he flicked away the butt of his cigarette before settling back against the wall again.

“I bet you’ve never skipped a class once in your life,” Asami pulled another cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it without even looking, focused on Kirishima instead. In the shade, Asami’s golden eyes almost seemed to glow, eerie like a predator in the night.

Kirishima knew a challenge when he heard one. He returned Asami’s glare for a full minute before taking his hand off the door handle and moving to join Asami where he sat. Smugness emanated from Asami as he reached over to offer Kirishima a cigarette.

“No, thank you,” Kirishima pushed his glasses up his nose. “They’re bad for you.”

“So is skipping class,” Asami teased.

“But _that_ won’t kill you.”

“Exactly,” Asami laughed, and clapped Kirishima on the shoulder. “Some rules are made to be broken, Kirishima-kun. Besides, you and I both know that nobody in this school is going to complain about _us_ missing a class. We’re Ishin’s top students,” Asami winked as he reached one hand up and tugged at the perfect knot in his tie, pulling it loose but not undone. Then he tipped his head back against the cool concrete again and closed his eyes, looking like relaxation personified.

Kirishima waited a moment for Asami to do something to make use of this time spent skipping class, but it appeared the other boy planned only to use it to take a nap. With a roll of his eyes, Kirishima decided to seize the opportunity to observe Asami without having to attempt to see past the impassive expression. With his eyes closed, and his glossy hair falling across his handsome face, Asami seemed almost… younger, somehow.

Not that he appeared _young_ exactly; it was just that normally he gave off an aura of sophistication and success that made him feel more like an up-and-coming business man than a student. Asami wore his uniform like a literal _suit_ of armor; it made him both charismatic and impenetrable. But now, with his jacket off and his tie loose about his neck, he looked like a teenager. A tired one, Kirishima realized as he studied Asami’s face and noted the slight purpling of the skin beneath his eyes.

“See something you like?” Asami interrupted Kirishima’s thoughts, murmuring the question without moving or opening his eyes. Kirishima winced at being caught staring, and pushed his glasses up his nose nervously to hide the embarrassment.

“I- I was just thinking that you look exhausted,” Kirishima stuttered. Then, with a controlled hint of bitterness he added, “And somehow I don’t think that it’s from staying up late to study.”

There was that smirk again as Asami shook his head. “I don’t often find the need to study.”

“Then what _were_ you doing?” This time there was more than a hint of bitterness in Kirishima’s voice, but it was coupled with a genuine curiosity. Asami cracked an eye open and regarded Kirishima thoughtfully.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

He didn’t elaborate, and not for the first time Kirishima wondered just what Asami’s interest in him was. By now it was clear that Asami was perfectly capable of being hugely successful on his own, so why drag Kirishima along with him? For the first time since meeting Asami, sitting on the roof in the shade of the afternoon sun, Kirishima decided to ask.

“Why me?”

“Hmm?” Asami asked sleepily, but having seen him truly relaxed just before, Kirishima now felt that his lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate. Asami knew exactly what he was asking. He just didn’t feel like answering, but Kirishima was tired of playing this game with him.

“Ishin Academy doesn’t have scholarship students, you know,” Kirishima told Asami primly, taking his glasses off and polishing them carefully with his sleeve. “I looked it up. There are none on the record; I’m the only one in the entire school. Which is strange, don’t you think? Especially when further research shows that the funding for my particular scholarship comes from a generous donation made by the Asami family… I don’t suppose you would care to explain that.”

Asami opened his eyes and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “Oh, I’m not sure you need me to explain. You seem to have worked it all out quite nicely for yourself.”

“You are the one who made the donation and created the scholarship,” Kirishima accused, narrowing his eyes on Asami’s calm expression. “You researched me beforehand, and for some reason took the steps to ensure that I would attend this Academy.”

“I did,” Asami agreed.

“I want to know why.”

“The answer to that is simple: it’s because I wanted you.” Asami stood up suddenly, pulling Kirishima with him. He walked over to the edge of the roof, gesturing out past the school grounds to the city beyond. “My father is the head of the Scion Group, but he’s getting old and lazy. He believes in the traditional path, and he’s content to sit on his hoard of gold without a thought towards expanding it. But I’m not. When I inherit, I’m going to branch out and expand. If you don’t keep moving forward, you’ll fall behind. It’s a viciously competitive world out there, a steep pyramid where only a few will make it to the top. And I have every intention of being one of those few.” He turned to look at Kirishima then, full of drive and passion and power. Then he smiled, and suddenly Kirishima was full of them too, making him realize that Asami’s assertion earlier had been right on the mark: Kirishima _was_ greedy, and this was exactly the elusive _more_ that he craved.

“Of course, the smart man knows that a pyramid is built on a firm base,” Asami continued. “And one thing I’ve learned about business is that while collecting knowledge is good, collecting knowledgeable _people_ is better. That’s where you come in, Kirishima.”

“You’re saying… that you want me to work with you,” Kirishima spoke the words slowly as he thought it through. “You want _me_ to be the firm base of your organization?” Asami pulled out another cigarette and took his time with lighting it before blowing out a puff of smoke with a smirk. “As I said before: I want to see what you’re capable of. But for now it’s safe to say that I expect great things from you, Kirishima.”

Kirishima felt that the same could be said of Asami himself, but still he felt the need to prod the other boy slightly as he narrowed his eyes and asked, “So what makes you think that you’ll do it?”

Asami raised a single eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Make it to the top of the pyramid.”

He expected Asami to frown, but instead the dark haired boy threw back his head and laughed.

“Let me put it this way, Kirishima: when there is something that I want, I pursue it relentlessly, until it is mine. And then I never let it go.”

Asami spoke with certainty, and Kirishima didn’t doubt that what he said was true. His golden eyes burned like a match that had just been struck to life. Gone was the blank, unreadable expression that he normally wore. And in this moment, Kirishima understood him perfectly… Asami was more than just a lit match. He was a growing flame, ready to consume anything and everything in its path. And Kirishima was burning with him. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everybody! This was my first fanfiction ever, so please let me know what you think! I know it's pretty short, but I should have the next chapter up soon and its not a long fic, so I'm hoping to update pretty quickly.


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